I awoke to the sounds of life continuing to occur despite all of my attempts to set a new sleep marathon record. Twenty-two years ago, drinking ceased to be an option and my FWB pool is a little under-stocked, so sleeping was the winner by default. Allowing myself a break from the world and its blue-pill promises, I was in need of something that could and would take my focus from my thinking and bring it back into my body. Sex is great for this but alas, I am in a bit of a drought at present. The solution to this set of present circumstances is the last thing that I really want to do: get out and connect with the rest of humanity. It amazes me how just showing up is such a magic potion for the single-soul and I will procrastinate, hibernate, and isolate but eventually I will go and be among the rest of my kind. Today is a gift and I must participate in my own life. Scarcity is an illusion and the day is filled with promise. Now to get my ass up and out the door…
I am so pissed off right now! I submitted entries to a writing challenge recently and I didn’t receive even an honorable mention for creativity. I read the other entries and they were fine and well-written, and sentimental and (dare I say it?) predictable! Needless to say, I feel as though I have been slighted due to my quirky and extremely unpredictable story twists and turns. I realize that my dark and slightly skewed sense of the world is not for everyone but seriously, I think that the element of surprise should compensate for something…or do we only exist as automatons in this world? Unless something is mushy, gushy, and has the potential to leave us with a lump in our neurologically-challenged throats, are we to dismiss it entirely?
Then there is the subject of niche. I don’t have one. I may not ever have a definite topic that is exclusively my own. I just roll in too many directions to state clearly and definitively that this (insert elusive topic here) is what I prefer to examine and expound. I simply cannot limit myself this way, which brings me to my next point: I believe that the contributions I have made on my blog may have also had something to do with the lack of encouragement and support. I was careful to take note that the facilitator of the challenge did check out my site and I am merely guessing but I do believe it hurt my chances. Could it be that there still exists a kind of snobbery and prejudice within the literary discipline? I would dare to venture a guess that if attention had been drawn to my blog, someone might be a tad uncomfortable…? I don’t know, it’s just a guess.
This brings me to another point: randy writing has been with us since humans began to carve images onto stone! Sensuous and erotic prose is as natural as sleeping, eating, and breathing, however, the Victorian bias is still alive and well when the Brontes (talented, though they were) fit our only conception of what is defined as literature. Any English major has read Chaucer, Lawrence, Wilde, Nabokov, and The Pearl. What about the Kama Sutra, an antique text which dared to commit to print the most sensuous and pleasurable acts to take place between two humans?
Indifference, not criticism, is the enemy of creativity and I would appreciate any feedback you would care to share. Now that I have gotten that off of my chest, here are two of my entries that I thought were pretty damn good:
The scenario is a blind date that starts off well until….
At exactly half-past eight, she appeared. Looking more striking than her description, my heart began to pound with excitement. Will she like me? Will she think I am as desirable as I find her? What can I say to her that will not betray my nervousness and faltering self-confidence? She spotted me with ease and walked directly over to me and without saying a word she grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the dance floor. Hips swaying to the loud sensuous beat, her dancing had me panting like a dog in heat. I dared to touch her by encircling her waist in my arms and suddenly we were flesh on flesh and I could feel her hot breath on my neck. She was so stunning and sexy that I realized she may not think that I am up to her standard but she seemed to be into me by responding to my lead on the floor. At one point, she turned and I could feel her soft, round bottom slightly pressing into my pelvis and I almost couldn’t control myself. Thankfully the music stopped and she grabbed me by the hand and led me outside to cool our sweating bodies within the embrace of the soft ocean breeze.
I looked at her and thought “What a perfect night…” And then she spoke for the first time, “You look so beautiful, wherever did you find that gorgeous red dress?!” It was then that I heard his deep, baritone voice and realized that to my dismay that she was a man.
The next scenario is a child who is talking in her sleep:
Tonight he would be prepared. Climbing into bed with a pencil and pad of paper, his plan was to have these items ready as soon as the child was asleep and her lips began to move. The child’s sleep-talking had begun a few weeks ago and he didn’t pay much attention to her gibberish at first but over the following weeks the noises had turned into an intelligible form of discourse. Her audible murmurings were beginning to reveal things that a child of four, his child of four, should not and could not know. Her mother had been equally disturbed.
“I don’t know when all of this started but I am not getting any rest since Daphne starting sleeping in our bed,” she had said. “First it was your insomnia and now it’s her talking and rolling around and I am exhausted.” She pointed to the bags under her eyes as confirmation.
“I know, honey,” said Paul. “Let’s start a new bedtime routine tomorrow and we will make sure to wear Daphne out at the park in the afternoon. It shouldn’t take but a few days and then we will be getting a good night’s rest again, OK, honey?” Paul secretly hoped that tonight he would be able to jot down what he was certain was an intelligence from another dimension. Somehow, someway, a transmission was occurring through his child and he could swear that he had been specifically chosen for this revelation. He just wished that his wife would not interfere until he could accurately transcribe the mysterious knowledge.
Paul reached to turn-out the light as his wife rolled over with a deep sigh and said goodnight. Setting the pad of paper and his pencil next to the bed, Paul made certain that his unopened refill of risperidone was still carefully concealed.
Enjoy! XO DWD
Finally! The scheduled rendezvous arrived and my pump was primed. I had been waiting to get my lips wrapped around this tasty testosterone for quite a few months and although I have been in a relationship of sorts, as the conclusion became inevitable my mind was caught repeatedly wandering to the prospect of rekindling some fire with my former flame. Any healthy female can attest to the truth of the old adage “the best way to get one out of your head is to get another in your bed” and this prescription is strong and is backed by some pretty solid stats.
He arrived early in the morning and my senses were instantly alerted by his aroma, a musky cocktail of light perspiration combined with morning java and his natural deliciousness. After nudging him into the bed and removing what was left of his clothes, I had him lay upon his stomach while I softly kissed his neck and back and then proceeded to his nether regions. First kissing one cheek and then another, I had him maneuver up onto his knees and I slowly began to lick down the crack of his fine ass. Deliberately, I licked south and north and applied a mild pressure with my tongue to the area between his scrotum and that most secret of man-places. He moaned with pleasure as I entered his bum with my firm and erect tongue. I gently stroked his penis while applying a gentle, warm and wet tongue-lashing to his formerly off-limits behind.
For those females who have not yet dared to go where no man has gone before, I cannot encourage you enough to indulge your man with this exotic pleasure. Not only will it trip your guy into the throes of ecstasy but you will be surprised at the powerful aphrodisiac that dwells between the tender balance of his vulnerability and your determination to seek his trembling capitulation.
Thank you, Steven Tyler!
When I say weiner, I do not mean an actual weiner but the dog next door. I am an animal lover and I would never harm one of our furry friends but the persistent barking of an untrained dog is enough to drive any woman over the edge! Something as innocent as sitting in the backyard, under the shade of a Chilean Mesquite and enjoying a nice, hot cup of joe in the morning cool is almost nonexistent since my new neighbors have moved in next door. The new resident is well aware of the disturbance of her animal and insists on talking to him as if he can reason this issue out with her and come to some kind of mature conclusion and decide not to bark at the person he sees everyday going to and from work, cleaning up the yard, taking out the trash, cleaning the garage, etc. I have thought about squirting him with a water-bottle when he is being particularly annoying but I have my doubts on its effectiveness; I have tried borrowing my daughter’s dog and with earplugs in place, I let Wilma run up and down the yard for two hours which naturally caused the little critter to bark spastically the whole time. My thinking was along the lines of aversion therapy and although the little fur-ball was tired, he was back on his game the very next day without even a hoarse note! I feel like taking a gun and shooting the little bastard but he is otherwise pretty cute and I realize that I might be underestimating the effects of some additional tension in my life due to my ongoing state of sexual abstinence. Oh, the trials and tribulations caused by the weiner… what is a girl to do?!
What is more annoying than fingernails scraping on a chalkboard or that slick of donut oil left on your tongue? Nothing with the exception of that certain type of edginess that is only a result of not getting laid. Lately, I have been experiencing some irritation and edginess and although I have experienced these feelings a time or two before, in the past I have been able to promptly remedy the situation and get back on the beam. Once in the solution, I have always been able to pick up where I left-off and carry-on for a while until those edges and urges came knocking at my door once again and I would add another chapter. This time, however, has been different. The reasons are many but the main one is that I have met someone that I really, really like and who seems to not only embrace my free-wheeling nature but his personality is conducive to a complimentary partnership.
All of that being said, why the edginess? Simple, I am experiencing a time of sexual abstinence due to His traveling occupation and although I am an independent and self-contained unit with excellent problem-solving skills, I am not desirous of seeking to remedy this situation in the usual manner; in other words, I am not craving any other sexual partners to help with my attitude adjusting and I am somewhat adrift in this unfamiliar territory. As a prospecter by nature, I seldom narrow my options so severely, however, this is different and so completely out-of-the-ordinary that it has me a bit unbalanced…and baffled. I don’t, as a rule, back myself into such a tight or limiting corner and as unnerving as it feels, I have a sense that there is no other solution.
How this has occurred, I do not completely understand but at some juncture I experienced a connection with a “Him” that has gone far beyond the sensory realm and has left me so physically, emotionally, and spiritually satisfied that I just know that anything else will be a poor substitute. There is a term for this state of affairs and it is called “supply and demand” and it is not usually a voluntary situation but is instead orchestrated by those who would primarily benefit by capitalizing on limited supply. As an experienced consumer who has purposefully stepped into this particular circumstance, I am intrigued and mystified by my deliberately chosen state of lack. I might have even tripped upon a phenomenon which runs the risk of my retracting all of my earlier romantic cynicism…? I will keep you posted on its progress…
She looked around; it was definitely time to get some projects completed. As a single woman, the never-ending compilation of “male” tasks was always an issue. Who in their right mind would ever want to spend their Saturday cleaning and organizing the garage? Not to mention the yard work! She practiced her procrastination skills as if they were an art form; until the day the notice came from her HOA. These “memos” were certainly helpful in keeping the neighborhood nice, but what a pain! Ah well, there was no escaping the mundane tasks of life and they could certainly be a bitch and it was time to quit whining and get busy or the HOA would have its hands in her wallet.
She dressed in her cut-off shorts and a tight-fitting tee, tennis shoes, and sunglasses; she was ready to tackle the mother! Stepping into the yard, the weeds and other debris were everywhere so she set about getting the proper tools from the garage and began to work. She had been at her task long enough to produce a light sweat and as she wiped the moisture from her eyes and face, she poured a light stream of water down between her butt-cheeks…ahhh, refreshing! The bottle of water she had stashed in the freezer in preparation for this particular task had come in handy and she liberally poured some down the front of her tee. As she looked around, she definitely was making progress but there was a lot left and honestly she would rather be doing anything else!
As she continued to work diligently at her task, she was oblivious to the man who had been studying her industrious form. Feeling that uncomfortable sense of being observed, she looked up to see a good looking man, about six feet tall and nicely built, smiling at her efforts.
“Can I help you?” She asked sarcastically, aware of her wet tee shirt and her shorts which had the appearance of sweat in her butt-crack; normally, she would have never been caught dead in this predicament but it was yardwork and she was annoyed; who the hell comes to your fence and just stares at you without offering to help?! She decided to allow her irritation to show through, unfiltered. “If you are selling something, the answer is ‘no’ and if not, either pick up a shovel and help me or hit the road.”
Much to her surprise, he came through the gate and picked up a rake and began to clean up the weeds she had feverishly hoed. She watched him casually, every now and again, wondering where she had seen him before and as she accepted his presence in her space she noticed his finely chiseled features and small, tight butt. He had a way of smirking that allowed her to suppose that she could imagine what he was thinking about and she decided that maybe her appearance was a bit more enticing that she realized…? As she continued to slyly study him, she decided that he was definitely doable and she was determined to find out if he was all that his looks seemed to promise. They continued to work for a while in silence until finally she decided that at the minimum she would offer him something to drink.
“Would you like to come inside for a cold drink? Is this your way of doing your Boy Scout deed of the day?” She teased.
“Well, I was watching you and I thought that you might want some help but I wanted to test your bitch factor first—before I had a chance to ask, you beat me to it.” He said with a sly boyish grin.
Not exactly certain where she had scored on that test, she decided to ignore the comment until she had figured out if she even cared enough to know. Entering into the cool house, they were both sweating profusely and she couldn’t help but smell his musky, delicious aroma. He smelled like Man, and it was good! There and then she made her decision to have him and have him she would! Not caring to know anymore, she went with her gut instinct and offered him the opportunity to shower off the sweat that glistened so sensationally on his face and arms. He was a mixture of lean muscle and deeply tanned Marlboro Man roughness; his green eyes were piercing within the contrast of brown skin and white straight teeth and he had a habit of flicking his tongue to the outer edges of his mouth when he spoke. Almost subconsciously, she found herself imitating this tongue-flicking gesture and she felt herself getting more and more turned-on as she sensed the heat between her legs…she could really use a spray of that water bottle now!
He politely accepted the clean towel that she held out to him and followed her down the hallway to the bathroom. As she closed the door, she heard him turn on the shower and begin to disrobe. Hmmm…should she or shouldn’t she…he was a neighbor and in the name of hospitality…? Oh hell, yes!
She stripped down quickly and being certain that she heard him enter the shower, she quietly let herself in and in one swift movement she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. He didn’t appear to be too surprised but the look on his face was definitely pleasing. Taking one long survey of her naked body he simply remarked, “I can’t believe how much of a hottie you are…” to which she simply smiled. Without a word, she began to wash him gently all over his chest and arms and then his back; she tenderly scrubbed his small tight ass and softly reaching between his legs, she lightly rinsed his scrotum and his anus. He was beginning to harden so she continued down his legs before turning him around to finish. Then while he watched, she began to wash herself never once taking her eyes off of his; she filled her washcloth with foamy body-wash and began to wash her breasts and stomach while gradually moving below her belly-button. Once she reached between her legs, she put the washcloth aside and grabbed a hold of his hand and began to guide his movements by allowing his two fingers to explore her lips and finally she led him to her clitoris and showed him how to gently circle it without actually touching it until she was ready.
He dropped down onto his knees and after raising one of her legs and positioning it onto the small edge of the bathtub, he began to lick her by lightly flicking his tongue over and all around her clit…it was absolutely and incredibly hot! She felt the adrenaline rush inside of her as the urge to explode mounted; she wanted to stay there forever, teetering on the edge of pleasure and capitulation, it was bliss! She felt every cell of her skin responding and she writhed with physical pleasure that only comes from the excitement of a new partner and the freedom of no expectations. The orgasm that followed was so deliriously explosive that she embraced it and held it until her quivering legs could not support her any longer.
“Well, if I had known that being a Boy Scout was this rewarding I would have become a lifetime member.” He murmured sensuously and appeared to be very pleased with himself. She looked at him and smiled and still she said nothing; talk is overrated at times like these and what she wanted to do to him did not require conversation.
She turned off the shower and toweled him dry; gently guiding him to sit in the chair in her bedroom, she knelt down on the floor and began to massage his penis which was hot and throbbing with desire. She could tell that he wanted to be inside her but she was calling the shots and she would decide when, or if, that was in his future. For now, she rubbed and tickled his hardness with her tongue and taking him into her mouth she consumed him until he could hold back no longer and he gave her the precious price of her desire which she swallowed with great satisfaction. Leaving him like cooked spaghetti, she lightly rose to her feet and dressed. His eyes followed her every movement and seemed to beg the question of “What’s next?” To which she simply replied, “That yard is not going to clean itself; let’s hit it!”
Moral: A good worker is worthy of his hire.
There comes a time in every woman’s life when the prospect of her next sexual rendezvous seems to be off somewhere on the distant horizon. Times of sexual famine are difficult to predict when a girl is out and about on her own and unless she has taken an oath of celibacy for a time, she must resort to her stash of battery-operated contrivances. Dependent upon her state of urgency, the chosen appliance of assistance can vary and many women have their favorite stand-bys, however when time is of the essence and a girl just needs to get the most bang for her buck, she simply cannot beat this little marvel of modern battery-operated technology, also known as Mr. Bullet.
In regard to this small piece of engineering ingenuity, I have nothing but praises to sing; it is versatile, efficient, and…ooh lah lah, don’t let me dare forget to mention extremely effective…! I came upon this little beauty quite by accident; I was interested in trying out something different, something more portable and discreet and I was led by a very knowledgeable salesperson who introduced me to my little friend (hello, Scarface!). Having only recently discovered this resource of the “adult store” due to my previously sheltered existence, I felt as though I had found a new kind of Disneyland of pleasure and as long as the expense didn’t break my budget…why not?!
What follows is a summary of my first adventure using this shiny silver miracle of invention whom I choose to call “Mr. B.”
Upon arriving home, I made certain to wash Mr. B and install the proper batteries in the correct direction; this may seem superfluous to you but when a lady has been ignorant in regard to these things…well, let me just say that it finally came to life. I experimented with the dial a bit to see what sounds and vibrations were possible and I discovered that Mr. B had anywhere from a minor buzzzzz…. to a setting capable of causing a nuclear explosion! I decided to start with the minor buzz due to the fact that I didn’t even have a learner’s permit to operate the thing and I didn’t want to cause any peripheral damage. I put in some Santana, stripped away all of my clothing and lie back on the bed with the pillows under my head so I could see what I was doing (this is important). I put a small dab of K-Y on the perimeter of the Bullet and turned the dial. Using the tip, I lightly massaged all around the outside lips and was I pleasantly met with a very scintillating response; my body began to relax and then tighten and my legs seemed to open and spread wide of their own accord instinctively aware of what was to come! Slowly, I began to position the bullet to massage my inner lips around and around until I felt the straining of Her Ladyship, the Queen, begin to beg for some attention. I have discovered that Her Ladyship can be quite fickle at times, sometimes she is like an open book willing and ready to receive whatever delights are presented, and at other times she is picky and arbitrary and is only receptive to the utmost care and lengthy attention. This day she was quite anxious to make the acquaintance of this special visitor and wasted no time allowing Mr. B to render a full 360.0 inspection of her attributes and after insisting that he perform several additional rotations of her periphery, she succumbed to the effects of his smooth but powerful advances. She was quite delighted, and exhausted, and it had only been a mere five minutes!
Timing. This little concept has the power to alter or define futures; the mis-played hand, the too pre-emptive strike, or a complacent attitude can either inspire a dig-in-your-heels optimism or a fatalistic pessimism. Fortunes have been lost by a hand called too soon, or a sell made too late and the same is true of “chance” encounters. That being said, I have lately been immersed in a sexual famine and although I know I sound a bit dramatic, the practical realities of sexual malnutrition can influence just about every aspect of life and not in a positive way. The simple prospect of going to work without the magic of those miraculous endorphins coursing through the body can be a dismal prospect; these little beauties affect everything and there is simply no consolation available when I am unable to walk into my daily place of bread-and-butter feeling like a million bucks! I have had my co-workers comment on those days when I seem to be floating on air, as well as those days when I seem to be stuck in the sludge and the contrasts are obvious, try as I might to keep them hidden. (In fact, if you work alongside a particular cranky-pants, I would not be surprised if he/she were in a state of sexual frustration and deprivation!)
So, back to my story. Just when things couldn’t have looked any more bleak in this time of deprivation and famine, there he stood in the middle of the store aisle. As he spoke, I perceived a handsome and intriguing mixture of lust, charm, intensity, and intelligence and this cocktail of the senses was powerful and impossible to ignore. My mind began instantly to analyze, scrutinize, and strategize as I quietly thought to myself, “Opportunity is knocking and I must know more…some additional research just might be in order…better act fast!”
So, after about 30-seconds of statistically evaluating my chances of success, I asked him for his number and promptly sent him a text. Although most men will tell you that they like it when a woman makes the first move, truthfully, they can just as easily become very intimidated. I have found that most men fear the female who comes on more assertively because having been influenced by the advertising-inspired idealistic construct of romantic love, it is assumed that she must be either interested in having a ring on her finger or have the desire for control via a relationship. In fact, if she is attractive and nicely put together, they can automatically (and wrongly) surmise that she has to be nuts or conniving. The motive they almost never guess is that maybe this discerning female would like to take a test-drive before any of that even has a chance to develop…? Therefore, I am very careful and calculating about who I invite to swim in my pond, so to speak, sexual and intellectual chemistry being mandatory water safety skills along with the requisite physical attributes (yes, shallow I know).
Back to my story. We set a date; so far, so good. The evening began a little later than usual which made for the perfectly clear message of there-cannot-be-any-misunderstandings-as-to-the-purpose-of-your-visit and although that may sound a bit unromantic, I can assure you it has the exact opposite effect. Transparency in the female-male relationship is one of the sexiest and most effective forms of foreplay and allows a woman the luxury of relinquishing her anxiety to make room for anticipation (which is far more fun!). Playing and fantasizing with the idea that there exists a strong probability of a physical connection, allows the release of energies that can better be utilized through the embodiment of mental and physical pleasure instead of nervous tension and allows this female the opportunity to connect for a brief time in my mind with the Creative Divine. Getting naked is truly an art form and the most creative act that we humans are blessed to experience in this fleshly dimension; sex is an exhilarating adrenaline rush combined with the highest form of tactile pleasure known to man and suffice it to say that this natural form of pleasure can produce in me infinite inspiration—in fact, sex is the catalyst for much of my creative edge being translated into language!
The kissing was deep and the touch was soft and then rough…ooh, lah, lah! Sparks flew and we both dripped with sweat as one caress lead effortlessly to another and the Queen acquiesced to lowering her drawbridge as his tongue bid entry. And enter he did; first like the quiet knock on a door and then like a battering ram and it was sensational! I soon discovered that he is a master of language as well and said the nastiest, most delicious things that could have burned down the entire castle if it were not for an unexpected flash flood from the Queen herself! The smell of him still lingers like a current in the ocean, perceptible and strong, the natural groove of our bodies and the pleasures of sensuous skin-on-skin will likely keep me smiling for a long time to come (no pun intended)! The despair of famine has been lifted and let me just say that the Queen was very pleased to have her faith in her instincts—and her timing– once again confirmed!
The images evoked from man’s musky aroma can be like kryptonite to a healthy female and his pungent perfume can have the potency to whet a woman’s appetite and significantly moisten her panties—and a particular man’s fragrant pheromones can stimulate and perpetuate a certain primal urge in even the most demure of females. Seemingly shy, one whiff and she will proceed to hone-in, hunt, capture, and consume the object of her affections. No matter how socially sophisticated and polished she may be, the innate drive to satisfy the lusts of her flesh will turn a she-male into an analytical, calculating, and salivating hunting machine. This is the power of the smell of man and it is a force with which to be reckoned!
One such man has captivated my olfactory senses for several years. I think he has purposefully stood within my sensory range in order to test his potential to take my thoughts hostage and wet my panties—and he succeeds. I once read that certain subliminally exchanged chemicals have the power to thwart concentration and destroy lives and if I hadn’t experienced it personally, it would not have been believed! Once primal instincts have been triggered, the impulses to sniff him and lick him are almost more than I can control and I feel as if I am starving and about to devour my last meal; I want to engage every atom of sensation that is possible by gluttonously savoring and consuming every last bit of him. Yes, this is what can become of a sexually healthy and free-spirited soul of a woman when the scent of him is in the air!
Our last encounter was a taste-bud extravaganza which still continues to elicit future fantasies of euphoria and exotic thrills: I licked him in places that may not have ever before seen the light of day—and he was delicious! Hearing his moans of pleasure and delight was enough to cause me to orgasm right then and there and this memory remains as one of my most fond. (I was able to persuade him to leave his shirt behind in my safe-keeping, for medicinal purposes of course!) What is in store for him during our next encounter I do not know, that information is stored within the secrets of my animal-brain but I do so look forward to a second-course adventure…